you cannot stop staring at lieutenant riley's tits. (18+)
what the fuck was he thinking wearing something like that at work? a compression shirt a size too small—i mean what the fuck—how is that fair? how is that normal? what else are you supposed to do except sit at your desk outside price's office and oogle at him whenever he goes into and out of a meeting?
it wasn't really a problem, actually, until he caught you.
he was waiting for the typed transcripts from laswell's meeting. standing in front of you, arms crossed over his chest, pecs straining against the dark grey fabric he wore as he grunted out that he wanted a copy of the papers that you were holding in your very hands.
"oi!" ghost snaps. your eyes, half lidded and focused on the middle of his chest, shoot wide open at the sheer volume of his voice, and you shuffle a little on your heels as you blink up at him.
"s-sorry, lieutenant, what were you saying?"
you squeak when he grips your face in one big hand. he squeezes your cheeks, puckering your lips, and you're dragged up and onto your toes as he leans down and presses the mouth of his mask against your own. he makes your lips move like a fish, squishing them tight and loose again, and he chuckles lowly as he studies the way your skin warms under his touch. pretty, stupid thing—smartest behind that desk, stupidest when you're standing in front of him.
"look at you," he murmurs. "y'r so bloody soft. all over. just how i like."
"y-yeah?"
"yeah..."
"y-you're so hot," you whisper. he laughs, chest heaving with it, and you ache to reach out and feel how meaty and fat he is there. "o-oh—"
"not supposed to fraternize with staff 'n the like, you know tha', don't ya?"
"y-yeah," you nod, leaning up on your toes, keeping your face against his.
"y'r just naughty, tha' it, innit? naughty, pretty thing you are."
"s-super..." you lose your train of thought, giggling, "naughty."
"fuckin' useless, tha' head o' y'rs," ghost mutters. you chase his thumb that traces your mouth, aching to take it into your mouth. the world is quieter when he lets you have it; your lips close around it, and you suck with a soft whine. "bloody useless."
"sorry..."
"no matter, love. just gonna 'ave ta bend you over to empty it."
